


And The Seas Dry Up

by ProneToRelapse



Series: Forever Doesn't Sound So Bad (If You're By My Side) [2]
Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Android Hank Anderson, Established Relationship, Fluff, Intimacy, M/M, Romance, Self-Lubrication, Sexual Interfacing, Shower Sex, android sex, brief mentions of death, brief mentions of suicidal ideation, married android detective husbands, soft boys in love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-14
Updated: 2018-07-14
Packaged: 2019-06-10 07:30:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,375
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15286743
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ProneToRelapse/pseuds/ProneToRelapse
Summary: Hank adjusts to his new functional immortality.





	And The Seas Dry Up

**Author's Note:**

> y'all were so nice i had to do a sequel. love you all.
> 
> thank you Meaiku for inspiring me as always.
> 
> //Note, i haven't explicitly stated whether Sumo is a new dog with the same name, or the same dog with a ridiculously long life-expectancy just like his dads. I Will Not Clarify.

It’s a funny thing, time. Something created to easily mark the passage of a lifetime, a length by which to measure a life lived from decades down to seconds. The guideline to live by, to watch over, constraints to measure progress and yet, at the same time, hammer home the crushing inevitability of one’s own mortality.  

 

It’s a bizarre notion, then, to suddenly find yourself free of it.  

 

Bar critical damage to his memory processor, Hank now has to adjust to the fact that he has no conceivable end. His new artificial limbs can all be replaced, from legs right down to teeth and eyes. Parts of him may not live on, but the essence of what Hank is, his soul if he believed in that kind of thing, will endure.  

 

Once he would have despised this. Living for so long, unable to die. He would have absolutely abhorred the idea of a limitless existence. Back when he had nothing to live for and a single hope to die for.  

 

But he was always so afraid of pulling the trigger.  

 

And now… 

 

Not two months ago, he’d thought he’d finally reached the end of his natural life. And he was  _so_  scared. He’d been absolutely terrified of all the unknowns and uncertainties. Was there anything after? Nothing? Would he even get to see Cole again? All those thoughts whirling round and round in his head even as his mind had started to cloud with age and his body withered and weakened.  

 

And one thought standing out starkly from the rest. One overwhelming thought that tore through Hank’s chest like the blade of a knife.  

 

 _I don’t want to leave Connor._  

 

They’d built a life in the aftermath of the revolution. A partnership so imperfectly perfect, full of trust and peace and so much love it was almost unreal. Connor took to feeling like he did everything else in his life. With determination and focus and a hell of a lot of enthusiasm. And when that same eagerness was focused on Hank, on his happiness and his contentment, he could do little else except fall the rest of the way in love.  

 

And here he is. Eighty-seven years old. Staring at his forty year old face in his bathroom mirror, LED flashing yellow on his temple. It’s alarming, to say the least. Staring at a face he hasn’t seen the reflection of in forty-seven years. He wonders what Connor was thinking when he chose this face. He’s not unhappy about it, he looks good, he feels a lot less self-conscious. But it’s odd.  

 

“I considered having you as you were when I met you,” Connor says softly from the doorway. “Understand I would have recreated a body for you exactly as you were at your current human age. But prolonging your life was a risky enough gamble. I didn’t want to force you into a body you weren’t comfortable in.” 

 

“The whole thing was a gamble,” Hank murmurs, glancing at the Connor in the mirror.  

 

“It was,” Connor agrees. “But we were dying, Hank. This was the only way to save you.” 

 

 _We_  were dying.  

 

 _We._  

 

Not him.  

 

 _We._  

 

Hank wonders briefly if deviated androids love differently than humans do. With all those new emotions coursing through them and no foreknowledge on how to handle them, the love the feel must be fierce and searing. Hard to control.  

 

He notes the familiar surge in his own chest as he looks at Connor.  

 

No, not all that different to humans.  

 

Had their positions been reversed, Hank would have moved heaven and hell to save Connor’s life.  

 

“I’m not angry,” Hank says because Connor’s LED is pulsing an agitated red. “I’m not. Hell, I would’ve been, sure. Thirty years ago. Now, I… Shit, I’m grateful. I mean it, I am.” 

 

“I was so afraid,” Connor whispers. “I was so afraid of losing you. I didn’t know what else to do.” 

 

Hank turns to face him and opens his arms. In seconds Connor is in them, face buried in Hank’s neck, arms clutching him tightly round his waist.  

 

“I love you so much,” Connor says into his throat. “I don’t know what I would have done. I would have— I thought I was going crazy. I was hearing things that weren’t there, seeing you when you weren’t nearby. And I spent so long away from you. I was terrified you were going to die and I wouldn’t be there, but I  _couldn’t_ _-“_  

 

The words spill out and so do the tears, Hank feels them, wet and lukewarm against his skin, soaking his shirt. It honestly hurts to hear, even though he couldn’t do anything, that Connor was suffering so much. All that time watching Hank waste away and deteriorate, feeling helpless and lost. He can’t imagine how that must have felt.  

 

So he just holds him, murmurs soft nonsense into his hair, stroking Connor’s back softly. He doesn’t shy away from the emotions, hasn’t in a long time. Everything he is now he owes to Connor. His happiness, his renewed joy, the vanishing of those dark shadows that clung to him like tar.  

 

They owe each other too much to express with words.  

 

But they try.  

 

“I love you,” Hank murmurs, and Connor understands. “Thank you, for saving my life. Again.” 

 

 

— 

 

 

Connor assures Hank that as soon as he’s settled in fully to his new body, he can return to the precinct. Hank isn’t entirely sure how legal that is, but it’s nice to have something to look forward to.  

 

And learning his new body isn’t nearly as difficult as he’d thought it would be. Connor is endlessly patient and reassuring, but Hank finds that the knowledge he needs, once Connor explains how to access it, is intrinsically part of him. It’s the same as closing his eyes or raising an arm. He knows how to do it, he just has to think about it.  

 

Connor sits cross legged on the couch facing him, slowly demonstrating simple calibration techniques with his hands. It’s disconcerting to see his own fingers plastic white with his skin peeled back to his wrists, but at the same time he finds it intriguing. The way the joints move seamlessly, delicate but unyielding.  

 

“And of course,” Connor says with a small smile. “I highly recommend this.” He flicks a quarter beneath his fingers expertly. “It’s very calming, too.” 

 

He flips the coin into the air and Hank catches it faster than he ever would have been able to as a human. He tosses it between his palms for a moment before tilting his hand slightly to run the quarter down his fingers. It actually works, the coin skipping easily over finger to finger, back and forth fluidly as Hank’s face splits into a widening grin.  

 

“Huh,” Hank says, grinning. “And here I thought there was actually some skill to it.” 

 

Connor scowls and snatches the coin back, flipping it up to spin it on the tip of his forefinger. He gives Hank a pointed look that has him chuckling.  

 

“Alright, I take it back,” he says, leaning forward to kiss Connor softly on the cheek, disarming him enough that he drops the coin.  

 

“You did that on purpose,” Connor mumbles, but turns his head into the kiss anyway.  

 

 

— 

 

 

In most ways, Hank’s android body is the same as his human body. He doesn’t feel different in himself, he just has higher endurance – infinitely higher – he’s stronger, faster, and doesn’t need to breathe and stasis replaces sleep.  

 

Not a lot really changes.  

 

He still loves Connor with everything fibre of his being, still enjoys sports, can still taste and enjoy whisky even though it’s lost some of its pleasant after-effects. Connor recommend adding a drop of thirinol, a bizarre android concoction developed a few years after the upgrades that allowed them to ingest food and drink. It definitely packs a kick, and sufficiently replaces the buzz he’d gotten from alcohol while human.  

 

The sex is still… 

 

Actually, it’s better and it had always been pretty fucking spectacular. 

 

Something about processing sensation through a neuro network relay heightens the experience. He can feel the pleasure along every inch of his body, rather than just located to one specific area. It’s almost tantric, the way they fuck now, limitless and all-encompassing.  

 

Hank now has no refractory period. 

 

It’s  _awesome._  

 

But there’s one thing that still keeps pressing on his mind, taking up almost all of his thoughts, even with the considerable amount of added headspace. He finds himself drifting off into daydreams when Connor is trying to teach him how to preconstruct and access certain processes, and he can’t quite seem to wrangle his concentration back under control once it goes. 

 

Connor is still endlessly patient. He never pushes too hard or asks too much. Hank thinks he’s still afraid that he’s pushed a boundary by giving Hank a functionally immortal body. Hank wishes there was some way he could make him understand how much he doesn’t think that. 

 

And there is. Which is the source of Hank’s current distraction. 

 

He just doesn’t know how to bring it up. 

 

He’s seen it often enough now, both in intimate situations and platonic. He’s seen Connor and Markus press their skinless chassis together to exchange information, he’s seen the tender way Markus and Simon press their palms together. He’s seen androids in the street holding hands, chassis bare as they stroll together. 

 

And Hank  _wants_ that. He wants it so fiercely it scares him a little. The only time he and Conner had interfaced was when he stepped off of the assembly platform securely and successfully transferred into his new body. It had been a shy, tender thing. He’d been so unsure, confused, seeking comfort in the most instinctual way he suddenly knew how to. It hadn’t been remotely sexual, not at all, but that tender melding of consciousness had been exactly the reassurance Hank needed. 

 

He’d fretted about it for a week or so, wondering if he would be okay with letting someone that close, that far into his head. It was such an intense thing, but with Connor... He wanted it. With his husband, who cheated death to save his life. 

 

But it still leaves him with no clue how to even broach the subject. And Connor gives no indication he’ll ever initiate such a thing. 

 

So Hank stays quiet. And suffers. 

 

— 

 

In the end, it’s easier than he thought it would be. 

 

He has Connor in his arms while they lounge on the sofa, the news a soft hum in the background while they just take comfort in each other’s company. Sumo is curled up beside the sofa, Connor’s free hand dropped down to scratch lazily at his ears.  

 

The newscaster drones on about something to do with the rising number of androids wanting to adopt, but Hank isn’t really listening. Not until the screen transitions into a short video of an android couple walking down the street, hands clasped together and chassis bared, interlocking beautifully. 

 

“Hank?” Connor’s voice is soft and draws Hank’s attention away from the screen. “Are you alright?” 

 

“Fine,” Hank says. “Just... Got some stuff on my mind.” 

 

Connor frowns and guilt jolts through Hank’s stomach. He has no right to make this beautiful android worry over him like this. 

 

“Nothing bad,” Hank is quick to assure. “I just... That, uh, interfacing thing? Looks kinda interesting.” 

 

Connor turns to look at the screen, at the android couples locked in domestic bliss, then looks back to his husband with a soft smile. 

 

“Do you want to try?” Connor asks. “I wasn’t sure you would. I didn’t want to assume. It’s very different to how we usually connect with each other.” He drops Hank a playful wink, 

 

“I’m curious,” Hank admits. “I’m real fucking curious. Like, is it a sex thing? Or is it just... sharing information?” 

 

“It changes with the individual,” Connor says, sitting up so he can see Hank better. “The exchanges I make with Markus and the others are the pure relay of specific information. But like all relationships there are different types of intimacy. You can interface with a loved one without it being sexual. Just comfort and intimacy.” 

 

Hank is quiet for a moment, thinking. 

 

“I’ve not interfaced personally with anyone,” Connor murmurs, large doe-eyes fixed on Hank. “You would be my first, too.” 

 

Oh. 

 

That’s... That’s a very nice thought. 

 

“I want to try,” Hank says finally. “But I don’t... Can we just hold hands? Or does it need to be different?” 

 

“Holding hands is fine,” Connor says with a smile. He sits up, moving back on the couch so Hank can sit up as well. “I don’t think throwing you into full body interfacing for your first time will be very helpful.” 

 

Full body...? “You mean like, during sex?” 

 

“Among other things,” Connor says, smile turning mischievous. 

 

Hank swallows pointlessly. One of the many habits he can’t seem to break. “So, uh... How do we do this? I don’t...” 

 

This is completely uncharted territory. He has a faint idea of what to do, but otherwise he’s completely out of his element. His dick, he can work with. Connor’s dick? Also no problem. But this? Painfully and vulnerable and trusting someone not to hurt you when you’re at your weakest? That’s completely next level. 

 

“Just relax,” Connor murmurs. “I’ll take the lead.” 

 

Connor reaches his hand out slowly, holding it out to Hank in a wordless offering. Only slightly hesitant, Hank places his own hand in Connor’s and watches as his husband’s skin bleeds away to reveal his alabaster exoskeletal structure. It takes a long moment before Hank does the same. The heightened receptors are achingly sensitive when not covered by the synthetic skin, and Connor’s hand feels solid and cool in his grip. 

 

Nothing happens. 

 

“So, what are we do-” Hank chokes off as something like electricity jolts up his arm. That’s too violent a description, it’s more like a steady wave of shock that ripples up the limb and flares out into his entire body. 

 

The electricity morphs into heat and Hank can’t help the breath that rushes out of his mouth as the soft presence of a mind that isn’t his own pushes against the boundary of his thoughts. It takes a moment, like the presence is looking for a way in, and then with a rush like sun-warmed water it takes over, washing into his mind, melding harmoniously with his in the most pleasurable rush of sensation Hank has ever felt in his life. 

 

It all happens quite quickly after that. 

 

Memories that don’t belong to Hank swirl through his head, filling his vision. His own face, smiling back at him, full of tender adoration. His face through Connor’s eyes, the feeling of warm affection Connor experienced when he looked at him. The way Hank’s eyes lit up when he smiled and Connor’s thoughts stalled at the sight of it. The feel of his skin against Connor’s, so many memories that even Hank’s enhanced brain struggles to keep up with them all. 

 

The only thing he can hold onto with any certainty are the feelings Connor is pouring through their connection. The desire to love, to hold, to claim, the perfect feeling of loving someone and feeling that love returned. 

 

And Hank tries to give as good as he gets. He pushes his own thoughts through that metaphorical link in their minds, a desperate need for Connor to see himself as  _Hank_ saw him. Every morning he woke up to the sight of Connor in his clothes, Connor making him coffee just the way he likes it. 

 

 _I want you._  

 

Drying Connor’s hair after a walk in the rain with Sumo. 

 

 _I love you._  

 

The way Connor’s hair curls when it’s wet. 

 

 _I need you._  

 

Their first kiss. 

 

 _Want._  

 

Their first morning together. 

 

 _WANT._  

 

Their wedding. 

 

 **_I WANT YOU._ **  

 

A desperate moan echoes along their connection and Hank can’t tell whose mouth it came from. He can’t tell whose body is whose, all he can do is hold on as wave after wave of pleasure prickles through his body, right down to the lines of his code, burning through his abdomen like the most intense climax, doubled as Connor’s surges through him, too. 

 

Hank shudders and his eyes fly open after who knows how long. He’s sprawled on the couch again, flat on his back with Connor above him, cheeks tinged a soft blue, eyes closed. His LED is cycling a rapid yellow, just as Hank’s must have been a moment ago when his systems came back online. Their hands are still clasped tight together, but their skin has melded back into place. 

 

He feels... He feels like he’s been fucked. Honestly, he does. Like he’s been fucked slow and deep and it’s left that wonderful ache deep in his metal bones. He shudders with the residual pleasure of it, grimacing a little when he realises the result of their pleasure is a rather physical one. And that’s  _definitely_ more than should be there for one orgasm alone. 

 

And then Connor looks up at him, blinking slowly, a little dazed. “Hank...?” he murmurs softly and god, he sounds  _wrecked,_ all static and scratch in his synthetic voice box.  

 

“I’m here,” Hank says at once, his own voice gravelly with static. “I’m... Fuck, Connor. That was... Intense.” 

 

Connor’s smile is a slow, lazy thing that shifts into distaste when he moves. At least Hank’s not the only one in a... sticky predicament. 

 

“What do you say to a shower?”  

 

Connor’s bright laugh is a sound Hank has burned into his memory drives. 

 

“Sounds wonderful,” he says, leaning up to kiss Hank softly before getting to his feet and tugging Hank along behind him. 

 

Hank follows, but the moment Connor is out of his clothes, Hank’s on him, scooping him up into his arms and stepping into the shower, pushing him against the tiles as the hot water rains down on them. He’s unbearably hard somehow, even after their shared experience on the couch, but Hank wants more, he needs it so badly he aches. 

 

Connor’s legs slide round his waist as Hank pins him to the shower wall, skin gliding wetly against Hank’s as he gives a needy moan into Hank’s mouth. It’s not tender, it’s want, pure and simple, a visceral desire to be as close as possible physically after their mental connection. 

 

Connor is already slick with desire and Hank doesn’t have to waste any time before he slides into him, one long, firm thrust that has him buried to the hilt and tears a cry from Connor’s throat. They kiss desperately, tongues twining, teeth catching lips and water running down their faces as they share a single breath between them. 

 

Heat pools in Hank’s gut as he rolls his hips, driving hard and as deep as he can, forcing the unneeded breath from Connor’s lungs with the force of it. Connor clings to him, nails raking down Hank’s back in tantalising trails of faint fire, moaning desperately into his mouth while his cock rubs between their stomachs, inching him steadily closer to orgasm. 

 

Hank growls into Connor’s mouth as he hits deep, angling his hips to drag his cock across that bundle of wires that draws the most beautiful reactions from Connor. He does it now and Connor writhes in his arms with a breathy cry of his name, whimpering as Hank claims his mouth again. 

 

Connor comes with a shuddering moan not long later, clinging to Hank and panting desperately, pale body painted gentle blue and water droplets glinting on his skin like sapphires. He’s unbearably beautiful and it doesn’t take more than a handful of thrusts for Hank to follow, giving a choked groan as the pressure in his abdomen snaps, filling him with that deep, rolling wave of pleasure. 

 

They stay like that until the water runs cold, trading gentle kisses and soft breaths before Hank switches the water off and wraps them both in towels, leading Connor by the hand into the bedroom. 

 

And if they don’t go into stasis immediately, well.  

 

Hank’s stamina is a lot better now. 

 

 


End file.
